LUPUS IS LIVING WITH ME & I'M LIVING LIFE!!
Take a journey into my universe.
Partake in the unveiling of my deepest, darkest and intimate realities.
Experience my struggles with life and my battle against lupus.
Explore with me in my quest to discover happiness in my own utopia.

Woke up again with a shopping list of things I want to do today. I will definitely work on the birthday card I need to do that, it is over due and their a couple coming up. I have some thoughts that I want to write but they are for a separate blog I'm going to start. It's called 'My 2Cents Not Worth A Penny.' I'm going to vent and talk shit there, and try not to mention my health or personal struggles. I'm going to be a normal sane person in that blog.

I have a headache. I'm taking the new medication for the PH. It's Viagra! Maybe I'll get an erection. Seriously one of the side effects is blindness that irreversible. But hopefully my breathing will be better. Yesterday I went for a V/G scan and there were some abnormalities and my Pulmonary doctor sent me to the ER to do a CAT scan with contrast. Okay here's some venting. I was there from 11am until 6:30 pm. When they were admitting me to the ER I got so much attention, everyone was in the little room, they even gave me this warm thing in my hand to warm my blood before they stuck me for the IV line. They liked my medical information card and thought it was funny that I had a laminator at home. They even took my shoes and socks off for me. Then they were gone. I got someones attention to go to the bathroom but after that, all and all they basically ignored me.

There was this man in the room next to me. I have no idea what he looked like but he had a annoying voice and nasty mouth to match. Racism is alive and well in America. This man was disgusting. He didn't want anyone to assist him except white Americans. Not anyone with an accent. He told the Chinese people to get away from them because they are bombing America. He told the Pueto Rician man to go back to Peuto Rico. He told the the Indians, to go to the airport and board the next plane to India. When a group of black doctors passed his room he said oh look at the Africans, why don't ya'l go to Africa, we don't want you here. He yelled out that he was HIV positive and didn't care who knew. He kept screaming he wanted to sign himself out if he didn't get any help. I mean he was being a pain in the ass. He got nastier and nastier as the day went on. He told the lady in the room across from him that she was a disgusting fat pig, she stays home all day eating and getting fat. A black doctor went into his room and he yelled get this nigger out my room. The staff finally had enough and called security so they could give him a shot to calm him down. Then they took him up to his room.

About two hours after the pig was gone I asked one of the orderlies what was happening with me. He said I don't know but if I wanted help, I know what to do. He was referring to the pig, that I should yell and scream. It took all this time to get a CAT. If I was at the city hospital they would of had that CAT done and I would of been out of there in 2 maybe 3 hours if they weren't going to admit me. Now my conclusion is that in the city ER they have a lot of people and they have to get them in and out. Here they didn't have no rush. Well the CAT scan didn't show any pulmonary embolism. Good, right? No! They still don't know what is causing my breathing to be difficult or what the abnormalities are. What does this mean? More fucking test!

They didn't feed me while I was in the ER in case they had to do some procedure or something. I was starving. I had a bagel that morning and a cup of fruit. By the time I got home it was after 7pm. I had plan to eat the rest of the salad I made with tuna, or if there was chicken I was going to have that. My mate being the thoughtful person that she is, fried me a hamburger with cheese, onions and of course a potato roll. Yum! I guess it didn't hurt. This morning I had, a bowl of cereal with Almond milk and I ate a banana. I got that banana down, I really don't like them. I got caught up on the news reading the papers from Thursday up to today. My doc called I still have a UTI and was calling in a prescription for stronger antibiotics. My mates niece went and picked them up for me. Before I came down to write the rest of this entry I had a piece of broiled flounder and that salad.

I am tired but I don't want to lay down. I'll tell you about the move into the house.

We packed up the apartment in Far Rockaway, I don't remember but I think we rented a U-Haul. My furniture and TV were from Rent-A-Center and they moved my furniture. My Uncle was angry that I moved the furniture he gave my mother, to the porch. Yes it was good furniture, but it was old fashion, it had plastic on it. I like my living room to be a place to live in. So he told my grandmother he couldn't come to the house and see the furniture on the porch. The porch was nice, it was in door, not out in the elements of nature.

A week or so after the funeral my brother came over and we wrote the thank you cards. It was a lot, mom's little church was packed. It was standing room only. My mothers, brothers, sister and my friends and co-workers all attended. They sent flowers, cards with money, fruit, food and drink.

Mommy worked for the NYC Parks department. She had a huge pension, she was retired for less then a year, all her money was there. She willed it to me, my brother and sister. We received close to 80K a piece. I paid off all my bills and brought a brand new 1993 Mazda MVP. Loved that car. I let a co-worker talk me into getting a car note. Mistake, you know hind sight. I should of followed my mind and got a good used car paid in full. Keeping up on the utilities, insurance, taxes and don't forget food, it was a lot. My cousin asked me to take her daughter in because she was getting in trouble and I did. My cousin had promised to pay me $300 a month or something like that. I got the $300 once and she was there September to November I think. I'm glad she and her cousins got to know each other. She wasn't any different then my own children. They all were smoking cigarettes and reefer. They ran up and down the steps and the house shook and rattled, inside the walls the cement was crumbling. The electricity couldn't handle the video games, multiple TVs' and boom boxes. The plumbing was leaking into the kitchen and the basement.

Gran had a hard time going up and down the stairs. She spent most of her time in her room, she had newspapers all over the floor. She would smoke her cigarettes all the way to her fingers, until they burned, she couldn't feel it. I she would go down and get something to eat, I would fix dinner and take it up to her. Sometime she wouldn't eat or she would send one of the kids to go and get her Chinese food. My sister-in-law would take her to her doctor appointments and occasionally they would take her for the weekend. I tried my best, I really did, but I don't think it was enough. She was Gran, always strong, the woman I use to challenge when I was a know it all teenager. The lady who usually had something negative to say about everyone and once a a while sometime good to say. I took for granted that she was going up and down the steps that she could do it. I offered to help her in the tub, but she didn't want my help. Looking back on it I should of did more. My sister-in-law said if I didn't want to move into the house that she would of taken Gran. I should of asked her to take Gran when the stove and refrigerator started acting up. One morning as I was getting ready for work Gran left the bathroom and went in her room and closed the door. She soiled the toilet and I cleaned it up. When I went pass her room she was laying on the bed with her legs hanging off. I called her but she didn't say anything, when I went in she wasn't breathing, I called 911 and the asked me to put her on the floor and to preform CPR. I didn't know how and I was afraid. Mr. 23 years did it. The EMTs' came. Gran was a live when they carried her out, I saw her move her arm. I got to the hospital and waited. About an hour later they came and told me my grandmother was dead. Was it my fault, could I have done more? This was six months after mommy died.

My cousins husband came to NY and picked up his daughter and took her back to California. We were the only ones left in the house. I fixed the small bedroom in the attic into an office to write. I would come home from work and put all I had into my novel. The kids would be watching TV doing homework or at their friends houses. Mr. 23 would do the cooking and cleaning. It was a while before I knew he was getting high again. Mr. 23 was smoking crack and shortly after started do heroin again. He would be in the basement doing his drugs and I would be in the attic smoking reefer and writing. It was people, places and things. We were in our old neighborhood. He was around the people he use to get high with. I was on a mission to write a novel, publish and get rich.

After a while I took a second job at McDonald's. I was gone most of the time. I expected Mr. 23 to watch the kids, he let them do what they wanted and my youngest just ran wild. My oldest he started hearing voices and his behavior became odd. He got arrested twice in two weeks. One for shop lifting and second he was picked by this kid as the one to rob him of $10. I used the last of the money I got from mother to bail him out and secure a private lawyer. Who did a a good job, only he wasn't able to get the charges sealed. He did six months on Rikers, that's the local jail. When he came home he was in and out of the hospital, and on every pshycotrobic medication. He wouldn't take the medication.

One morning he came in after stealing my car and riding around all night. He thought I called the police on him and he picked up a shovel and threaten to hit me with it. I had a young girl living with me, her mother abandoned her. So me and his sisters and the little girl went down stairs and got in the van and pulled off just as he smashed the rear window and driver's side window. I drove us around the corner and called the police. When we drove back to the house I could see my son standing on the roof with the stick in his hand, the shovel part broke off in the car. One of my step sons' friend was trying to talk my son down because the police were standing in the door way with a gun pointed up at him. He went into the hospital and got medicated. Mr. 23 years wasn't there, he arrived shortly after everything happened. He said someone called him and told him something happened. I believe he was with the women he married. This was before cell phones were affordable.

This cycle just kept going on and on. He got arrested again for robbing some one for like $10 this time they sent him upstate for 36 or 48 months I can't remember. When he got home two weeks later he robed someone for their Walkman and sat right where he stole it from. He got seven to fourteenr. He's been home for a year and is now on lock down in rehab. I pray for my son to lose this addiction that dictates his misjudgment and to let him get a life he never really had.

I'm up and dressed ready to go to my appointment, another test a Venous Doppler. They're going to take a sonogram of my leg to see if there are any blood clots. Hopefully I can get some of those compression socks on my insurance free. Those suckers cost $42 dollars from the medical supply store, but I found them at Amazon for $26 dollars same thing, no prescription needed. Tuesday I got a prescription for a portable nebulizer, insurance covers it, but not for the battery. It's a lithium, long life battery that cost $130 well there goes my extra money for next month.

I had a dream last night, or was it this morning. I'm not sure I was sleeping. I dreamt that my son and I were at Mr. 23 years house, he wasn't there. My son and I were laying around watching TV and on the other side of the room was a former job of mine. I went to my old desk and there were old cards, some old grapes that no one took out the draw. One of my mates nieces was there and she was helping me clean the area. Then I went to lay back and down to watch TV with my son. Mr. 23 years came in and we sat around talking, he wanted to touch me and I kept pushing him away. His wife came down the steps and I told her to come sit down. (Mind it was her house.) I tell her I don't want Mr. 23 years and I don't have a problem with her, that I'm glad she will be taking care of him for the rest of his life and that she is young enough to be there for him. Weird right?

I have weird dreams all the time. I like them, I guess since I don't have a social life I live in my dreams. Can anyone interpret this dream? I would love to hear some feed back on this. Barnes and Noble has a book on interpreting dreams in the metaphysical section, for my nook, of course it wasn't a free book or an under $5 book. And they updated the nook, now they have color and it's more like an ipad.

I'm shaking my head, companies are always trying to make money. What am I talking about, that's the American way. Greed dictates this world, this way we have young boys killing and being killed during wars, right?

When we buried my mother we were at the grave site. I purchased a flower pillow for inside the casket and wanted to take them home to Gran. I had on heels and tried to bend into the grave to get it, I was afraid I was going to fall and knock the casket down. My brother got for me. They slowly started to lower mommys' casket. Mommy is gone, I'm really grown now, were my thought. There's no one else who will love me unconditionally any more. It's just me and my children. Yea I I had and have my brother and sister. At that time we weren't close, I had Mr. 23 years all and all we've always had each other. I turned and fell into his arms, and he held me. It felt so good, I felt safe, he was going to be there for me forever. The women on my job, my surrogate mothers came over. They knew how I was struggling because of his drug habit. He use to come up to the job, he was in the neighborhoods and people saw him. These mothers grabbed me from him and held me. My new world was about to begin.

Got back home about two hours ago. Boy am I tired. I was suppose to have two test today, a Venous Doppler and an Artery something, to check for PAD, someone screwed up. I was scheduled for only one test. I have to go back for the Doppler and they are going to x-ray the arteries in my neck. I don't know about all these x-rays' and radiation. This can't be good, I go tomorrow for another one, this of my chest with contrast to see if there are any blood clots in my lungs.

Anyway today I was finished at 10 am and Access-A-Ride was scheduled to pick me up at 12:22 pm. Two hours, I didn't eat breakfast, hence, I didn't take my medication. The closest store was 3 blocks away and there were stairs up to the shopping center or walk another block and through a parking lot. I took the stairs. The deli was actually a bagel shop. Yea, yea, yea I passed the fruit and I passed the salads and had a toasted onion bagel with a pinch of vegetable cream cheese. I also had a 1/4 pound of chopped liver. I drank my water. I sat there and ate my breakfast then walked the 3 blocks back. I think the walking burned up most of the food I ate this morning. Lets hope it burned the whopper with cheese my darling mate brought in last night. I wasn't hungry, I ate it because it was there, and as if that wasn't enough I got full after eating half of it. Did I wrap it up and put it away? Of course not.

My Access-A-Ride driver was one of my good friends' brothers'. Both will get a cameo later in my story of Mr. 23 year. The driver and I did the nasty once or twice. Anyway he dropped me off at the supermarket. I got some spinach, carrots, and apples to juice tomorrow night. I got some grapes to freeze and snack on at night instead of potato chips. I got some strawberries, I cut them up and put sugar on them to have with the cottage cheese I brought. I got some tangerines and a few pears. Okay this should help me drop some pounds quicker. I already lost 6 pounds. Even though I might stray a bit I haven't had any cake, cookies or ice cream. I eat the chips but they are lightly salted and today I don't have any down here.

I made a toss salad and I put the rest of the chicken breast in it. Tomorrow when I get in I'll eat the rest of the salad with tuna. I'm having a bagel tomorrow morning. I'm being picked up at 5:25 am, I'll eat a cup of fruit too. Tonight I'm eating nothing but fruit. I'm tired and don't plan on going back upstairs. My mate has three cookies on the counter, chocolate chip. Boy do they smell good, but I won't eat them. I'll let you know if I was able to resist.

I will start telling my story in 2 days. I'm tired now and tomorrow I will probably be really drained so I'm going to rest for the rest of the day. Did I mention it's 3 pm and I'm in my PJs' ready to sleep! As a spoonie, if anyone took the time to read that theory, I used up all my spoons today, and this morning I had a lot.

Today must be a good day. I got up worked on a my medical emergency card, a birthday card and I permed my hair. A bit pissed off because my blow dryer gets over heated and stops working and it did this before my hair was dry, so now it's wrap. I wanted to curl it before I wrapped it. Oh well, who know when I'll have the energy to mess with my hair again. My mate and her mother went out this morning she had a a bunch of running around to do. Her mother is back and she's not, she kept saying she needed to get her hair done, so that's probaly where she's at. There use to be a time when she use to take me with her. Those days are over. Or she went to the bar, so a day alone as usual.

Mr. 23 years called me today. I thought he didn't want to talk to me after reading my blog. He says he reads it when he can, but his computer is broken. He has no problem with what I'm writing he says it's what it is. I told him about my health and how every time I go to the doctor I'm diagnosed with something else, I said it in such a cavalier attitude that he laughed and wondered why he's so healthy. I told him it must of been all the drugs he did. He told me he missed getting high, but know the consequences. I told him that his drug habit messed up both our lives, including the childrens'. My fault to I was an enabler. He knows he can't get away with getting high now, he'll be on the streets for real, his wife won't put up with it. She wouldn't let him live with her unless he married her. After I tell my story further you'll understand that she did that, more then likely to spite me.

So back to my story. Mr. 23s' friend asked if one of his brothers could rent my project apartment, I agreed. Him and his wife moved in with their I think five, six or more kids, I don't know how many, it was a lot. They were suppose to pay the rent. I should of went and collected the rent from them. They didn't pay the rent and got me evicted from the project and incurred a bill of over two thousand dollars. One of the sons is playing for the NBA, you'd think he would pay me back the money. Yes, I paid the bill because it was garnished from my payroll. I don't do favors no more. I give and never get. That's why I knew I wouldn't get anything from the SLE Lupus Foundation. When I was going to group therapy one of the women was talking about family that was staying with her and not paying any rent and eating her food. She said they moved out and wanted to come back. I told her don't do it. Everyone thought I was funny when I went ballistic talking about people will take advantage of you. Mistaking your kindness for weakness. When they get on their feet and are doing well, they forget about you. I kept saying don't do it, don't!

Yes you want to help your family and friends, after all it's the right thing to do. Not! In the end you are the one who ends up losing. All the help I've given over the years has me in this situation that I'm in today. I don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. I went in debt helping other people and come this March I may not be able to afford my medication when Medicare kicks in. Ain't life a bitch and then you die, for fucking real. Oh! I'm still okay just a side track vent there.

We moved into my family house. The house I grew up in. Where my sister and I played between the wall of windows and under the table, while Gran cooked dinner and watched her stories or Mike Douglas. The house where I use to sit on the couch in the living room and let my boyfriends finger me and feel my titties. The house where my family use to get together for holidays and share good meals, drinks, and laughter. The house where my aunt, who won the house in a palimony suite in1928, died a year before I was born. Her body was laid out on the porch, and my grandmother stayed up all night watching the body. This is the aunt I was named after, my middle name. The house my uncle who had lung cancer use to smoke and cough all night, after coming in from the VFW Post, drunk. He died in the arms of my aunt, his sister, in his bed. Where the same aunt for years use to read her Dick and Jane books trying to learn to read. The house where my mother, after putting the trash out went and layed in her bed and had a heart attack. This was the house, and forever will be the house.

This is a description of the house I grew up in:

Lord Bless This House

On any warm summer evening the setting sun would shine on the multiple variety of colorful flowers that lined the curb and walk way. The lawn green and freshly cut was watered in the morning to keep the sun from burning it during the day, on hot days the grass received an extra watering in the evening. A ‘keep off the grass’ sign wasn’t needed; you could hear Gran often yelling out the window, “Get off my grass!” Even stray dogs knew better then to poop in front of the big house without a driveway, in the once quiet Jamaica neighborhood in Queens, NY. Two evergreens and one honeysuckle bush lined the front of the house beneath the three windows facing the west. In the fall the flowers, grass and honeysuckle bushes turned yellow then brown. The fallen leaves from the neighbor’s trees would cover the grass. In the winter snow covered it all, only to melt in the spring and the whole cycle would begin again.

Walk up five steps and wipe your feet on the worn mat that no longer said welcome and enter the enclosed porch. Over the three windows, that separated the porch and living room hung a plaque that asked the Lord to bless this house. The hard wood floors were cleaned and scented with Murphy Oil. The screen covered windows allowed a breezed laced with the scent of honeysuckle to enter and blow the sheer curtains. There was a wicker couch and chair set where mommy sat in the evenings drinking Papst Blue Ribbon and smoking Kent cigarettes, while my sister and I played punch ball in the street with the neighbor kids before it got dark. When street lights came on we’d play hide and seek. Along the north window Gran’s house plants grew. In the winter the plants were protected under plastic. Beige drapes with red flowers were hung to keep the cold out and the heat in. The door leading to the long hallway remained closed in the winter.

The hallway seemed long, especially since I was the one that had to sweep it after I swept the thirteen stairs. I then would wipe the wooden base board with Pledge. The sun from the front door and south side stain glass windows gave the hallway a soft glow. From the hallway I would enter the dining room. The walls were a soft texture of bumps and holes painted an off white color. The pattern of the hard wood floor was slanted and border with a square design with four triangles in the center. A plastic table cloth covered the dining room table and a vase with red and white roses cut from the backyard use to rest in the center in the summer. On one end of the table were a week’s worth of newspapers, at the other a folded white table cloth would be laid for the dinner each night. My sister or I would set the table for three. a fork was placed on top of a napkin, on the left of the plate, on the right close to the plate was a knife next to it was a spoon. A glass of milk was placed above the plate on the right. Dinner was served on a platter, or bowl depending on what Gran prepared.

The buffet has a crystal stand and punch bowl that became home to open mail, phone messages and grocery store receipts. A chair sat on the side of the buffet close to the hallway door, where we use to sit and talk on the black rotary phone. On the other end was where Gran kept slips of paper to write her numbers to play. Above the buffet was a mirror that we vainly used when sitting at the dining room table. The china cabinet housed the fine china and crystal glasses, used only on holidays and when Aunt Mamie came to visit.

In the spring the area rugs were taken up, beaten, rolled and stored in the dark basement. In the fall the rugs were placed back on the floor, fruit replaced the roses on the table and green drapes covered the windows. In winter the punch bowl was emptied, cleaned and filled with Grans’ fruit punch during the holidays. The fresh fruits were replaces with nuts.

No eating or drinking in the living room, you could sit on the sofa bed couch or high back green chair to watch T.V. or to read a book. There was a sealed fireplace, on the mantle photographs of relatives dead and alive were on display. On the walls beside the chimney were two stain glass windows that brightened the living room during the day in any season. My mother’s piano smelled of pledge, our school pictures were there. Gran’s stereo didn’t have an eight track or cassette, it had a radio and could play 33, 33 1/2, 45 and 78’s, you could hear it all through the house. The new RCA color TV, the green tint often needed adjusting, sat on top of the old black and white console. Three windows looked out to the porch, during the summer the windows were open to let the breeze from the porch in. In the winter they were covered by itchy red and white drapes. On Christmas Eve Aunt Thelma and Uncle Vernon would arrive to take us to pick out a live Christmas tree that we decorated with ornaments that weathered many Christmas. The smell of the pine would filled the house.

The kitchen never had any dirty dishes except on Thanksgiving and Christmas. There was always a meal cooking, fried chicken, fried liver and onions, lima beans and smoke neck bones, beef stew or spaghetti. In the summer there would be fresh corn, carrots, green peppers, cucumbers and tomatoes from Gran’s garden. On New Year’s Eve chitterlings stunk up the whole house. There was a table in the center of the kitchen. Each night Uncle’s dinner was in a pie dish on top of a pot of water so it could be heated up when he came in from the VFW at night. Every meal included rice, even if there were potatoes.

There was a toilet in the basement; the door that enclosed it had glass windows with decals of naked women. The only full bathroom was upstairs. There were three racks and two hooks behind the door for towels and wash clothes, a matching toilet seat cover, tank and floor rug around the toilet. There was a rug on the floor by and one draped over the porcelain bath tub. The tiles on the wall were painted light blue with flat paint. The tiles on the floor were small, white and rectangular and were laid without any specific pattern. The bathroom always smelled of pine.

The bedroom next to the bathroom was my brother’s room, they had twin beds, with checkered red bedspreads, and there were two windows in their room, one facing east, and one facing north. The next bedroom was Uncle’s, his room was neat, a twin bed with a white bedspread, two dressers, and one with cologne he never used. There was a window in his room. He had a thirteen inch black and white T.V. that he let my sister and me watch after school. Uncle’s room always smelled of stale cigarettes and liquor.

The master bedroom was Aunt Dale’s room. She had three west windows, and one on the north and south side of the room. She had twin beds, one for guest. She had a big black safe in her room. My aunt went to night school every year to learn to read. In the evening she would ask me to help read her Dick and Jane books. Aunt Dale never learned to read, I suspect she was dyslectic. She wasn’t crazy like Gran use to say; after all she owned that big house and managed to keep the lights, water and heat on in the winter. She couldn’t read but she could count very well.

The attic was where Gran, mommy, my sister and I slept. Gran had a little room with a little north side window, a closet that was stuffed with clothes. She had newspapers, notebooks filled with numbers and Bible books stacked in one corner. Another dresser with two jewelry boxes full of costume jewelry and her pearls. A coffee table cluttered with an ashtray for her chesterfields, a radio so she could hear the Yankees play, scraps of paper to jot down her numbers. It was hard to open Gran’s door because of the clothing she hung up behind it.

The hallway was short up there; there was wooden rail and a little crawl closet where trunks of clothes, old toys and books were stored. My brother had a huge collection of first edition Marvel comic books and baseball cards that Aunt Dale threw away, not knowing the value.

The room my sister and I shared with my mother was big. Mommy had a full size bed by the west window, the area was an alcove. She had a long console T.V. that had a radio. It didn’t work so it was used as a dresser. She had stacks of magazines on the floor. At night she would put on classical music for us to go to sleep to, or we would listen to Sally Jessie Raphael talk show.

Our area of the room was big and mommy didn’t care how we changed the beds around, they were bunk beds that we stacked and sometimes put side to side. There were two metal closets and two dressers in the room, one for mommy and one for us. There were also two deep closets, one mommy kept her clothes in; it was home to the squirrels in the winter. The other deep closet my sister and I often played in with a flash light.

This was home for 44 years even when I moved out, I could always come back home. I did right after mommy died to stay with Gran. I moved in with my husband and three teenagers, the old house couldn’t handle them running up and down the stairs. The patched repairs became unglued and the house deteriorated. My income couldn’t keep up, the house that I love so, became a monster. I got a loan and repairs were made, I stayed. Rising insurance rated, oil, water, electricity bills, I was struggling. Now I understood why my house had an extended family when I was growing up.

My Aunt Willie died a year before I was born, I was named after her. She won the house in a palimony suit from John Elwood in 1914. In 2004 in the shadow of the Middle East upheaval I sold Aunt Willie’s house to an Arab and Jew. I felt shame and disgrace that I couldn’t keep our family house.

I packed the dining room table, the china cabinet and our vanity mirror. I tried to take out the stain glass windows but the wood was too old and the first one cracked. I packed all the mementos I could, everything was put in storage. I swept each room gathered my bags on the porch. The sun didn’t shine through the west window that afternoon, it was raining and my heart was breaking. I walked the buyer through the house, I looked at each room for the last time, I could hear the ghost of laughter, I could hear the pipes clank and smell the oil burn when the heat first comes on for the year. I could feel the house rock when the wind blew. I could hear the Yankee game being announced over the radio. I could hear Aunt Dale reading ‘see Dick run, see Jane run.’ I could hear Uncle snoring. I could smell the pine from Christmas trees, and stinking chitterlings. As I walked through each room on that gloomy summer afternoon, I felt my heart sink deeper and cried for hours after I said good bye to my old friend.

Eight days to fix the desktop. Lost my files, there was a short story and an article I was writing. The article was good, I don't know if I can duplicate it. With Lupus fog and all. I started to print it, but said why waste trees. Another thing I lost are the pictures my cousin had on FB that I copied into my documents, she doesn't like going on FB and I hate to ask her to come back on again. Well this shouldn't happen again, I have an external drive, that I was putting off getting.

I'm doing good with my eating habits. I lost already but I won't disclose that information yet. My goal is to be under three hundred pounds by next month when I see all the doctors again. I've been exercising a lot of will power. I ate a few little chocolate Santa Clauses and a handful of lightly salted potato chips. I had four ox tails last night and a sandwich this morning. The only reason I had the sandwich was because I had to go to the doctor and I can't eat two hours after I take my cellcept. I considered taking a bowl with cereal and a bottle with milk, but thought that would be awkward to eat with out a table. When I came home I ate a salad with some chicken breast. I'm doing good. My mate, she shares her negative opinions. But I ignore her, she really doesn't know any better. I will prove her wrong. I figured if I could lose fifteen pounds a month, by this time next year I would have lost one hundred and eighty pounds. If I do that I will be one hundred and thirty four pounds. Could you imagine? I haven't weighed that since I was, shit, I don't remember when. The doctors just want me to lose one hundred and fifty pounds. I do remember being a buck fifty in my mid twenties. I quit smoking two years and two months ago, that took will power. I can do this. I really can.

I have gotten on the exercise bike twice, one morning my mate got up and tried to put music on for me to exercise by. But five minutes is all I can do for now. I did my own style of aerobics on three of the steps. I will only exercise on the days I stay home, on the days I go out just climbing up and down the Access-A-Ride bus, and walking down the halls to the doctors offices lugging that oxygen tank that weighs more then some damn ten pounds like they advertised. Today I had them drop me off at Walgreen's to put my prescription in. I walked to the bus stop and walked home form the bus stop. So that was my exercise for the day. I am tired, drained. I have some birthday cards to make, but I'll do them in the morning. I brought a perm, I wanted to do that but I'll wait until the weekend I guess. I have appointments Thursday, and Friday I probably will be out the house about 5 am for my appointment. Oh yea I started working on my family newsletter and lost that when I got the virus in the computer. I hope I remember the info, stupid forgot to write it down.

I mentioned in my last blog that I have what they call APS, where I'm prone to clot. The Rhuematologist wants to see what the Cardiologist wants to do and the Cardiologist discussed with the Pulmonalogist, who is sending me for a V/G scan, I forget what it's called but it's to see how the air is circulating in my lungs. If there is a problem then they will put me on blood thinners. About the PH he says I'm in stage two, there are four stages. He says there are several ways to treat PH, he's opted to try oral medication. I'll be taking Viagra. Hummm! Wonder if I'll get an erection! I'm already horny, I hope it doesn't make me crazy. Seriously the side effects are dizziness and vision changes. This is going to be difficult to determine, since I'm already getting dizzy and having vision problems.

I had to go back and see the Family doctor and give more blood and urine. I don't know what the problem is and I really don't want to know. I have enough bull shit to deal with.

I don't know what my kids are planing to do for Thanksgiving. Neither of them has said anything to me. I cooked last year and it took a lot out of me. So I didn't offer and besides I don't have the cash to help buy the food. I also have an appointment on the Wednesday before. All is well I don't need the food temptation anyway.

My medicare card came in the mail yesterday. It starts in March. I can't understand that shit. I got to call them and try to figure it out. I'm going to need a supplement insurance, I got to find out how much that's going to cost and which ones my doctors take. If I don't have additional insurance it's gonna cost 20% everytime I go to the doctor, after the $157 deductible. I just can't win for losing. Well it's in Gods hands.

Now that I have the desktop back I can dedicate myself to my blog again and tell the rest of my story with Mr. 23 years. I just want to mention that I did have some affairs while we lived in Far Rockaway. I had a mechanic that worked on my car, I brought the parts and I paid for the labor with my ass. Sometimes he even took me to dinner or the movies. In fact he wanted to take me and the kids to Trinidad and live on a farm where he could have me all to himself. Mr. 23 always thought something was going on, he would try to catch him when my car wasn't working. When I didn't have a car I had a cab driver that use to pick me up and I paid my fare again with my ass. I knew what I was doing and there really isn't any excuse like if a Mr. 23 years was doing what he was suppose to I wouldn't have had to resort to that, but I did. That was just the beginning I will tell about all my nasty affairs after we moved from the projects into my mothers' house.

My 2Cents Not Worth A Penny

me

About Me

We live in a world full of certifiable, psychotic and derange crazies who are all on the verge of madness. Everyone is insane except me. I am sharing my rational, balanced and lucid knowledge in an attempt to save the world of total confinement in insanity.
But this is just my 2Cents and it's not worth a penny.

An Orphan’s Hope

Defecting from today’s sadness,
with hope of realizing tomorrow’s happiness.

Polluted dreams,
diluted realities.

Childhood fantasies,
adult terror.

Confined in a vacuum of isolation,
choking on ignored emotions.

An orphan quietly dying,
from an trivial life.

10/5/08

Highway to Success

Highway to Success

On my journey of life,
I took the path to the left,
off the express highway of success.
I trotted along melting tar,
through dusty dirty roads.
Over stony trails.

There were ditches in the darkness,
in some places.
A few times I fell flat on my face,
I’d get up,
wipe the blood from my nose and keep on going.
Blinded by the sun setting in the west,
As I traveled toward the fangs,
leading to the belly of the beast.
I’d trip on stones,
fall on my ass,
rise to my feet,
rub the tenderness and keep marching ahead.

There were signs posted pointing to detours,
I easily ignored.
There were alleys I could sneak down,
but on my course I stayed.
A map was folded in my pocket,
I never checked my directions.

It was an exciting journey of life.
Climbing up hills, rolling down.
Climbing back up and rolling back down.
Seems this last time,
I’ve been going down quite a while now.

Don’t see no detours,
no more alleys to sneak down.
My map was lost a ways back.
Long ago I was on the express highway of success.
I tried hitchhiking on the big rigs of lotto,
The numbers on the license plates just passed me by.

I’ll never get back onto the express highway of success.
I have to follow this path,
forward I go,
straight ahead.
On this bumpy path I choose.

Back when I began this journey of life.
While traveling on that express highway of success,
I woulda’, coulda’, shoulda’
took a right instead of a left.

I didn’t ask for directions.
I didn’t listen when directions were offered.
I ignored the detours.
I passed the alleys.
I lost my map.

I knew where I was going.

Somewhere on this path I lost my dreams,
and found a brick wall.
Now I know, I took a dead end road to failure.

I’m looking for my map.
Hoping to see one of those alleys.
Searching for those detour signs.
And asking for directions
back to the express highway of success.

I didn’t know how to refuse.
I cheated addiction,
I cheated HIV,
I cheated homelessness.

But I couldn’t cheat fate.

Gods’ vengeance prevails
just sucked the air right from my lungs,
presented me with the gift of emphysema,
maybe,
maybe if I partied in moderation,
No, No!!
that’s just stinking thinking.

I batted my bedroom eyes,
and flirted with the devil,
I wasn’t too shy to dance,

I must pay the price,
I crave oxygen,
And sleep, oh blessed sleep.

I partied hard,
I had fun,
now it’s time to pay,
an autoimmune disease is fighting me,

and Lucifer is still tempting me.

While God watches my
freedom of choice.
9/27/08

Glass Lady (what life was living with a crack head)

I can no longer compete,
with your lady in the glass.
She's your greatest love,
she means more to you,
then me or your children.

She's your princess,
your shining star.

You'll stay up all night for her.
You'll spend every penny on her.
I'm jealous, I can't compete.
I can't send blood rushing,
through your veins,
nor can I keep your heart pumping
at such a terrific pace.

No,
I can't keep your attention,
as long as you can hold her sweetness in your lungs.

I am only a woman,
a sad, lonely woman,
with no joy,
no happiness in me.

I can offer you my tears of hurt.
To me you lie, to her you give everything.

Me you abuse,
her you worship.

Your family you allow to struggle,
to her pimp you give more than enough.

You tell me not to worry,
everything's gonna be taken care of.

This I believe,
because in time I'll be able to take care of me,
then your mistress can give you

one

final

HEART ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!

Fate Be Told By: K. Wilhelmina Floria 6/9/09

Weeping sorrows,
full of illusions and dissatisfaction.
Stimulating anxiety,
a designer disorder,
yearning sedation,
requiring rehab.
Seeking amends
for a life
unfixable.
Really too tired to care.
Hiding,
deep in the shadows.
Invisibly trying to be seen.
Now.
Was it fate
that gave me this day?
Or,
was it the life I lived
that became my fate?
Once I tried to steal joy,
sure that happiness would follow.
So said,
that time is gone.
Today,
fires of hell are trying to engulf me.
Blinding my eyes
With oozing tears of strength.
Eliminating the dark flames of hell,
to a path where heaven shines,
and warm my cold heart.